


The Incident Involving a Frog Prince

by Anonymous



Series: A Portrait of Kirk the Devious as a Young Man [1]
Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Kirk is an Eldritch Abomination whose mind is older than the stars, Kirk just being an all-around creep, Other, Post-Canon, Saboo is painfully oblivious the entire time, The Fourth Dimension, Time Shenanigans, Twisted Fairytale, Unreliable Narrator, canon-typical alcohol/drug use, enfant terrible, frog prince- freeform, questionable parenting, unintentional doppleganger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:16:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22048495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Immortal and growing bored of all the sex, drugs and debauchery, Kirk decides its finally time to settle down and meet Mr.Right the old fashioned way; by kissing a frog and turning him into a prince, of course! As his plan slowly goes awry, Kirk realizes something about his mentor that he hadn't noticed before.
Series: A Portrait of Kirk the Devious as a Young Man [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1681165
Kudos: 6
Collections: Anonymous





	The Incident Involving a Frog Prince

The Incident Involving a Toad Prince

While training under Saboo as his protege, the both of them lived on and off in a remote cabin on the edge of a rural town on a bucolic pastoral planet. The planet, in turn, was inhabited by a species of medieval era humanoids who lived bland, uneventful lives and who had decided very early on in their history, rather curiously, that a monarchical ruling class wasn't really their style and had established a communal society of collective ownership and worker's councils and bartering instead. Kirk had originally assumed that it was his mentor's home planet, but later found out that Saboo had only chose it because it reminded him of home, minus all of the plague, coal smog, witch trials, premature burial and general Poesque macabre that one became accustomed to when living on the Victorian Gothic Horror world that was Melpomene, Saboo's home planet. Before all that, however, before Kirk even saw Saboo as his mentor, Kirk had assumed that his and Saboo's relationship was merely one of a family unit that was perhaps a bit more bizzare than most, consisting of one solitary dark wizard in the role of father, a small magician in training in the role of son, and no additional husbands or wives or significant others or brothers or sisters or pets to speak of, though Kirk supposed that he must have a mother out there somewhere, and that he was likely to meet her someday. This preconception existed for little more than the first decade of Kirk's life.

Being from the fourth dimension, Kirk's mind was always a bit adrift through time. Sometimes he could remember things that hadn't linearly happened yet. If he concentrated hard enough, he could easily move his perception back and forth through time the same way that three dimensional beings can move easily through space. He figured that his mind already contained all of the memories that it had ever or would ever experience, from the event of his conception to the exact instant of his death, and that he could access them more easily whenever he was in a state of altered consciousness, allowing his mind to slip freely along the pathway of his lifetime like a cart on a track, like memory lane if it ran both ways, or like seeing his life flash before his eyes, if it also included the bits of his life that hadn't actually happened yet. Kirk figured that he was as young as the Big Bang and as old as the Heat Death. So was everything else, really, but not everything else seemed to remember it. Needless to say, he kept this knowledge to himself. It was his little secret.

As a result, at the ripe old age of ten and a half, once he had done the whole sleeping around and chasing skirts and seeing the sky melt and drip after eating one too many edibles thing, he finally decided he was ready to settle down. For good this time.

Not just anyone would do, of course. They would have to be perfect, like him. Maybe not as perfect as he was, because that would be no fun, but as perfect as he could make them. For he was going to make them, after all. He had yet to find anyone else in the universe that would do. If you want something done right, you just have to do it yourself.

He found himself a frog. All frogs were just princes that had been cursed by witches, as everyone knew. Also, he was quite sure that most frogs only live about 5 years at most, so if it didn't work out, he wouldn't have to get his hands dirty disposing of them and he could just start again from scratch. On the other hand, if it did work out, he could find a way to extend his partner's life indefinitely, most easily with blood magic. It was a win-win.

The frog he chose was a rather large thing, about the size of a cantaloupe. It had jade green skin and little caramel spots scattered across it's back. There were two little round turquoise dots on it's cheeks right behind it's caramel eyes which he assumed served as it's ears, but which made it looks as though it was blushing at all times. It was plump and as round as a peach. It was just perfect.

All he had to do now was picture what he wanted the prince to look like as a human, and when he kissed it, that's what it would become.

He got out Saboo's extravagant feather pen and ripped some blank pages from the backs of important looking books and got to work.

It wasn't a quick process, since Kirk was always very finicky and changed his mind often. When asked why he had started carrying a frog around, he would just say that the frog was his new familiar. He filled up wastebasket after wastebasket with discarded ideas. He read the frog Machiavelli and Keats and Byron, hoping that it's mind would become as discerning and sharp as his was. He started out feeding it normal things that a frog should eat, like grasshoppers and worms, but then gradually started adding in little bits of things that a man would eat, a distinguished man anyway, like little scraps of steak and maybe a thimble full of champagne. He brought it to the opera and then to the theater, to help it appreciate the finer things in life. He brought it to Board meetings as well. And every night, when Saboo went to sleep, he would take out his pen once more and find a few extra pages to tear, and he would get to work.

He just couldn't pin down what he wanted it to look like. He had a rather diverse set of tastes, and it was hard to settle on a single design. He knew monogamous living wasn't the norm for his species, but the fairy-tales always managed to make it sound so terribly romantic.

He decided to start from scratch with the basics. The frog was a prince, and was therefore male. Well, not necessarily male, as he had heard many a story of a child born female disguising as a man to inherit a kingdom or to go off and fight in a holy war, but obeying some masculine ideal nonetheless, and most probably humanoid, seeing as that's what the creatures on this planet looked like, and the prince must have been one of them before getting tragically and amphibiously turned. That certainly narrowed it down. He liked the idea of a properly masculine square jaw, with a dimple on the chin, just to properly fulfill the classic fairy-tale aesthetic. He liked the caramel color of the frog's eyes and spots, and figured the color would do very nicely for a human's eyes and skin as well. He wouldn't mind if his prince was green and turquoise, of course, but he figured it wouldn't blend in as well with his current surroundings. He could change it back later if he wanted, making his prince look like some kind of rare peacock. He smiled at the thought, but quickly dismissed it. He preferred the idea of a prince that was tall, dark and handsome anyway, like Pluto or the Phantom or Svengali, or any one of the brooding young men that Byron was so keen on writing about. The words of a long buried phrase bubbled to the surface of his mind. 'Mouth as red as blood, hair as black as night'- where had he heard that? Maybe in one of those grim books Saboo used to read to scare him into behaving when he was younger, or maybe it was part of one of the games he used to play with the neighborhood children, perhaps the one that oddly enough involved a prince going around kissing corpses in the woods. No matter. He sighed to himself emphatically and decided he liked it. He pictured his prince, tall dark and handsome like a raven, with a dimple on his chin, caramel colored eyes, lovely pillowy lips, and a small space between his two front teeth like the Wife of Bath, which would betray how inconsolably he wanted him whenever he smiled.

By now, the portrait of Kirk's future beau was complete, and he was rather pleased with it. There was, however, something off about it. Not off in a way that was unsettling, but off like the way a sentence sounds when one's sure they've seen it written somewhere before. Deja vu, perhaps? Had he maybe drawn this face before without realizing it? He stared at it again, and then looked up at Saboo, who had dozed off on the couch by the light of the half melted candle. And then...

Ah. Hmm. Looking at the portrait again, he could see that maybe it did bear a small resemblance to someone he knew. Or more specifically, it probably looked so familiar because it may have shared a bit of a likeness with Saboo. He bit his nail. He had never thought of Saboo as handsome before, though he supposed he was kind to him.

'All girls end up marrying men like their fathers.' Wasn't that a thing he had heard someone say?

He shrugged and placed the frog on the page so that it was looking at the portrait, before bringing the animal up to his face so that it's forehead was pressed against his. He squeezed his eyes and concentrated as hard as he could, trying to communicate the image in his head into that of the small amphibian. After all, it was probably just a coincidence. A few more days of psychic projection should do the trick.

It was only a week later that Dennis summoned them all for a meeting, which later turned out not to be a meeting, but instead a party for Diane's grandson, who had just graduated year 13. Kirk, of course, had brought his frog with him.

"My grandson," Diane said with pride as she ushered the two of them in the door, "is studying magic!"

As the party went on, Saboo was nowhere to be found, and it seemed that the celebration was going to go on into the night. Diane had her arm around Methuselah's shoulder on the couch, recounting some noble pursuit or other from her considerably long life as the younger woman watched on in awe, while Methuselah's husband was passed out face down as usual in his own personal puddle of sweat and beige fabric, sword out and clutched tightly in his right fist, as the plumes of his once pristine peacock headdress found themselves buoyed up and down, as if on an ocean, with every small swell of his labored breath. Naboo, Bollo, Barry the Welsh Shaman and Pete from Dixon's had fallen asleep in a heap on the sofa. An unidentifiable pink hand poked out of the tangle of limbs and loosely clutched a single discarded bong which slowly leaked it's contents onto Tony Harrison's sleeping form on the floor which then seeped onto the carpet below. Diane's grandson, the one who the party had been for, seemed to be the only one who remained uninebriated, and he looked about the ruined house with dread in his eyes and a roll of paper towels in his hand. Based on the muffled sounds Kirk could hear coming from upstairs, he figured that Saboo had made off with the mom of some girl from the party who Kirk suspected to be the graduate's young girlfriend- the older woman had shown up to take her daughter home some half an hour ago, yet lo and behold the girl was still here for some reason. It was the only logical conclusion, and it would explain why the miserable young graduate had not yet retreated upstairs into the sanctity of his own bedroom. Kirk shook his head. The female form was satisfactory in its own right, but he didn't think he'd ever experience an attraction to women in the same way that Saboo did, as all encompassing and hot blooded as it was.

Kirk filled up a bowl from Diane's cabinet with an inch of water and placed the prince in it so that his nose and eyes would poke out at the surface, just like he did at home. He brought the bowl up to his forehead, projected his subconscious thoughts at it as hard as he could with his eyes closed once more, and then set it down next to a pile of couch cushions that had been cast onto the carpet before settling down for the night. Laying on his side, his blue eyes looked into the brown ones of his frog as they both slowly drifted into sleep, knowing that this way they would both dream of the same thing, and then the ritual would be complete.

The next morning, Kirk awoke with a stiff back, a noseful of strange smoke and a ray of sunshine streaming directly into each of his hungover eyes. He winced and tried to sit up, only to find that his arm was pinned under the body of Diane's unnamed grandson and his girlfriend next to him, who had at some point during the night pushed Kirk to the very edge of his bed of cushions and taken his more desirable spot in the center for themselves. Their presence signified to Kirk that the upstairs bedroom must still be occupied. He sighed. As sitting up had been ruled impossible, he instead rolled onto his side to look at his prince in his bowl. The bowl, as it turned out, was completely empty. With new found strength, Kirk managed to jerk the intruders off of his arm in a motion hard enough to wake them both up and sat bolt upright.

'Where is my frog?' He asked loudly to the room at large, to which he got a few groans in return.

'I said," he repeated, louder than before, this time getting to his feet and kicking at every unconscious human-shaped lump on the floor that laid within his reach, 'Where is my frog!"

His foot made contact with Tony Harrison, who then careened across the room, still passed out, to land on Dennis' supine back. Dennis was immediately on his feet, sword still in hand and slashing about at some unseen assailant.

"Kirk," Naboo giggled around a fat blunt, apparently him and his couch buddies were the only other ones awake and it was only because they were trying to get high to avoid a hangover, "It's a frog, innit? It probably just hopped away!"

"He didn't hop away! He always stays in his bowl by my bed while I sleep!"

Naboo's blunt dropped out of his fingers.

'He sleeps in a bowl?' he repeated dumbly.

"Yes!" he shrieked, reaching down to pull a slipper off of the lounging graduate's foot and then lobbing it at Naboo's head, who ducked just in time so that it hit him on the shoulder instead. Naboo's usually pale skin had taken on a paper white pallor.

"That wasn't no frog," he stammered, "That was a toad!"

"What does that have to do with anything!"

"Well, it means I may have..." Naboo's voice then trembled off into a mumble.

"You may have what?" Kirk repeated dangerously. He distantly heard the sound of a shower knob turning off upstairs, followed by the sound of two sets of footsteps running down a stair case.

"I said I may have... ah.." Naboo's eyes darted away guiltily, before he admitted softly, "Smoked it?"

Kirk's eyes widened.

"You WHAT?"

"I smoked your frog!" Naboo shook his head nervously, "Toad, I mean. I smoked your toad!"

Kirk's hands were around his neck in a second. "That toad was going to be my husband!" he shrieked, as Naboo's hands scratched uselessly at his thin yellow wrists.

"It was a Sonoran Desert toad!" Naboo choked out in ragged breaths, "They're full of DMT- You're supposed to smoke them! I thought you brought it for us to smoke!"

"You idiot!" Kirk ground out through clenched teeth as his grip tightened impossibly and hot tears fell down to burn Naboo's face below him. "I was going to marry that frog and we were going to have tadpoles together!"

At that moment, Naboo's eyes shifted from looking desperately at his face to looking at something by Kirk's left ear. Kirk felt a hand land on his shoulder which then pulled him roughly off of Naboo and back onto his feet. He spun around to see who he would choke next, only to find himself face to face with a very disheveled Saboo. His mentor's hair was wet and he was wearing nothing but a bathrobe which hung loosely open at the front to reveal a trail of water droplets clinging to the forest of black hairs on his chest and a series of red lipstick smears which started around his neck and ended somewhere down below the belt of his robe. When Saboo shifted slightly, Kirk could see a single smear of red lipstick lingering on his inner thigh. He gulped. It appeared the shower hadn't done much. Saboo's lips were swollen in a way that usually only happened if he ate too much salt, and Kirk felt his stomach turn over in a manner he wasn't entirely unfamiliar with.

Bollo took that moment to blissfully walk out of the bathroom.

"What Bollo miss?" He said after fully taking in the chaotic state of the room.

"Nothing really," Naboo muttered hoarsely, rubbing at his throat with his hand. "Now what the hell is Kirk going on about?"

Saboo gripped Kirk by the shoulder and bent down to look him intently in the eyes. Kirk blubbered something intelligible about Naboo smoking his true love before he could even be human.

Saboo stood back up after a moment.

'Just an acid flashback,' he concluded matter-of-factly, and left Kirk to cry fruitlessly into his palms. Bollo, having no idea what was going on, came over to comfort him and let Kirk sob messily into his fur. Saboo went back to say something to his equally disheveled, equally bathrobe-clad friend, whose daughter was desperately avoiding eye contact with her, and soon enough the two of them had vanished once more, probably to finish whatever they had gotten up to in the shower.

That night, when Kirk finally fell asleep, he dreamed he was underwater. It didn't make sense, of course, since desert toads don't live underwater, but he was underwater nonetheless, and his prince was there too. He was blue and turquoise, just as he had imagined, with red and caramel spots smudged all over his chest, and bright red gills which streaked along the sides of his neck and undulated with the current. He wondered if he kissed him if it would turn him back into a frog, a proper frog this time, and not an unfortunately hallucinogenic toad that ran the risk of being victimized by lazy stoners as was wont to happen. Or maybe it would turn them both into frogs, and they could live in the currents together forever.

'I wonder...' thought Kirk, as he turned over in his sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Basically the whole plot for this fic revolves around a deleted scene from Nanageddon (which can be found here- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2KY4YLKHeGs) in which Saboo says that he trained Kirk to be a loose canon, combined with the fact that Kirk is a known perv, which inevitably lead to this. You're welcome!


End file.
